Akito
by Beliel
Summary: A little songfic all about Akito. No plot, just character interpretation.


Hey. My first ever Furuba fic.

The characters are not mine, the song is by Ok Go, and therefore, also not mine.

This is about Akito. But I'm not trying to make him cuddly and nice. So be warned. Spoilers for the anime series. 'nuff said. Rating is because. I feel like it.

Comments welcome.

Get Over It 

_Lot of knots, lot of snags,  
lot of holes, lot of cracks lot of crags.  
_

Hatori placed a hand on Akito's forehead, face impassive as he felt the abnormal temperature. Without comment he picked up the young man's wrist, feeling the pulse, then taking the thermometer from Akito's mouth as it beeped, looking at the little digital report on the man's exact temperature.

"You're sick. A cold." He said quietly, no noticeable change in emotion.

"Of course I am." Akito said softly, smiling coldly. "Fix it."

"..." Hatori didn't sigh, he knew better. He simply pulled a bottle of painkillers out of his small medical bad and handed them to Akito. "Take two of these every three hours. And sleep." He packed his small medical kit with quiet efficiency, not waiting for Akito's verbal dismissal; it wouldn't come. Akito had already dismissed him, arms curling around his legs in a typical gesture of his. Akito was lost to the world for the moment, in his own private hell where it seemed no living creature could touch him.

_Lot of naggin' old hags,  
lot of fools, lot of fool scum bags._

"Akito sir, really, you should take better care of yourself..." Akito just glared at the woman who was fussing over him.

"I will go." He said, voice dangerous, soft.

"Really sir, you're in no condition to..."

"She's right master Akito." The second speaker was a man, one of the family members who did little more then leech off of the main house and brown nose. Akito hated the man. He'd many times considered just... Hurting him. But the thought of touching the slimey little man was more repusilve then the pleasure of seeing his terror would warrant.

"I've made up my mind. I'm going to the meeting. Now send Hatori to me. He'll drive me. Go. Now." Akito smiled lightly, insincere, hating that he had to rely on these two to get Hatori for him... He couldn't walk at the moment. The helplessness ate at him.

_  
Oh it's such a drag, what a chore,  
oh your wounds are full of salt.  
Everything's a stress and what's more,  
well it's all somebody's fault.  
_

Akito leaned out the window, watching Shigure lead the girl, Honda, out of the main house. He'd have to speak to Hatori about inviting such a girl to /his/ house. His land. He'd also have to find out what kind of girl she was. She didn't look so bright. But if...

He stood, pulled away from the window when the girl turned to look at him. He didn't want to meet her yet. He was still too sick. No, when they met, he would make sure it was on his terms.

Akito walked down the hall, spotting Kisa and Hiro and veering to make sure he passed by them. It was their fault he was like this anyway, everyone's fault. Hatori's, Shigure's, Yuki's... And Kisa. She was keeping her feelings for Hiro secret. And from /him/. Akito. Well, she'd pay for not telling him everything.

Picking up his pace the dark-haired man backhanded Kisa without a thought, sending the young girl flying into one of the screens. He didn't even glance backward to see how badly he might have damaged her as he went to drag the story of Tohru's visit from Hatori.

_Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Get over it, get over it!_

Hatori slowly began the task of picking up his study. Akito had trashed it rather thoroughly this time. He glanced to the other room, where Momiji was carefully mending Kana's picture. He himself was making sure to sweep the floor clean of any broken glass before proceeding to pick up the rest of the mess.

He leaned a moment on the broom, staring unseeingly at the broken Dragon ceramic on the floor. Shigure had given that to him... He'd have to ask 'Gure for another one to replace it. Taking a small breath he swept the ceramic up into a pile with the rest of the broken glass. He... Could understand Akito. In a way. He would never think of disobeying him. But sometimes, and it hurt him, to think this, but he almost wished the man would just... Get over it for a moment. And live life for himself, not for pain.

Hatori's fingers tightened on the broom, and he began to sweep a little more vigorously. He would not think such uncharitable things, he could not begin to.

_  
Make you sick, make you ill,  
makes you cheat, slipping change from the till.  
_

Akito hunched over himself, clutching his middle. "I hate it Hari..." he whispered, one hand clutching the doctor's arm, fingers bent like claws. "I want them all to go away. I want... You to go away. I want you to suffer." He stared up at Hatori, half-blind from the pain of his illness, hating the impassive look on Hatori's face.

"All of you... I hate you all." His grip on the older man slipped, and he slumped back into his bed, too weak to sit up any longer.

_Had it up to the gills,  
makes you cry while the milk still spills._

Akito threw the milk at the wall, watching the glass shatter and fall like a million crystal shards in the half-light, watched the liquid drip down the priceless mural done some ages past on that wall. And he laughed, laughed until he doubled over in pain, and fell to his knees, forehead touching the floor as sobs of pain and anger and frustration wracked his body. But there weren't any tears. Just the dry, wretched sobbing.

Hatori stood in the doorway, not bothering to fetch a rag, not—If he were honest with himself—Daring to comfort the man on the floor.

"The sedatives in that milk would have helped you sleep." Was the only comment the doctor made.

"Go to hell." Akito whispered, sobs dying away, leaving his body shuddering violently. "Go to hell."

_  
Ain't it just a bitch? What a pain, well it's all a crying shame.  
What left to do but complain?  
Better find someone to blame.  
_

Akito stared at the bird on his finger, face a mask; unreadable. "You know Shigure... It's your fault. All of you." He looked at the man, smiling at the expression on his face. "I know you hate me." He said softly. Twitching his wrist to dislodge the bird, Akito stood, wobbling slightly before he caught his balance.

"Akito..."

"Shut up." Akito said lightly, looking down at the dog of the zodiac. "You'll drive me to the school Yuki attends tomorrow. I want to go. I haven't seen him in so long; do you think he still remembers me? He must. He couldn't forget. If he forgot, I'd have to remind him." Smiling, Akito moved into the house, leaving Shigure on his knees outside.

_  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Get over it, get over it!  
_

Shigure watched Akito leave the car, to go find Yuki, and Tohru, if he wasn't mistaken. He wanted nothing more then to put himself between Akito and the young people who lived in his house, but... He couldn't Akito would do what he would, and he, Shigure, would do as he was told. Like a loyal dog. He closed his eyes, fingers gripping the wheel of the stationary vehicle perhaps just a bit too tightly.

If only Akito would accept it and move on... No. That thought was selfish. He would obey the man, no matter... How twisted Akito's mind became.

_  
Got a job, got a life,  
got a four-door and a faithless wife._

Akito lay in his room, curtains drawn against the sunlight, eyes wide, staring at the wall. His expression was blank. He'd been sitting like that for over an hour. He knew he was wasting Hatori's time, making the man sit in perfect silence in the corner. But he felt a strange pleasure in making the man wait on him. Ever since the Kana incident he didn't feel like leaving Hatori too much time for himself. Certainly not enough to go and socialize, possibly meet another like Kana. Hatori would have to learn that he, Akito, was the master, as long as he lived, he would make them all remember that.

_  
Got those nice copper pipes, got an ex,  
got a room for the night._

Akito watched Ayame stride across the grounds; he was probably in search of Hatori. The young man sneered. Aya looked so much like Yuki. Shuddering, Akito turned away from the sight of Aya charming one of the servants in an attempt to gain the information on Hatori's whereabouts. Looking at Aya brought up images of Yuki that made Akito want to hit something. Yuki, preferably. Yuki: The favorite. Yuki: The special one. Well Yuki was his. But Yuki was denying him. It upset him terribly.

Curling his fingers into his palms Akito walked slowly the length of the room, picking up the expensive statue on the other side and flinging it with all his might at the floor, eyes closed. He lived in luxury, and yet everything he looked at these days made him want to wretch. It wasn't good enough. It wasn't... Enough. It was too much. It was a beautiful, terrible coffin.

_  
Aren't you such a catch?  
What a prize! Got a body like a battle axe,_

Akito sneered as he watched Tohru and the others enter the main house, Kyou, of course, remaining outside as the others filed in. He lay down, his back to the door as, waiting for the knock that he would answer. Waiting for the meeting with the girl who'd charmed the family.

He wanted to hurt her. He thought, perhaps, that he might. Yes; hurting Tohru in front of all those who loved her. He'd show them what she really was. She could only fool them for so long. She was beginning to irritate him anyway. He'd wait for her to ask for permission to live with the others, and then he'd crush her. He almost smiled at the thought of harming Yuki's prize, his lovely girl, in front of him.

_  
Love that perfect frown, honest eyes,  
We ought to buy you a Cadillac.  
_

Akito leaned against the wall, staring blindly at the sky. The meeting with Tohru had not gone how he'd wanted. How he'd planned. She was too... Too honest. Too caring to be real. But... He couldn't find her fault. He couldn't... Hurt her. It frustrated him. Worse, her words... He wanted to hate her.

He pulled his knees to his chest, looking into the gardens. Her eyes, staring up at him, forgiving, compassionate... He'd felt stabbed. She was telling him to live. He didn't think he knew how. He couldn't even be sarcastic, hateful, not to that caring frown.

Fingers curled into his legs and Akito buried his head in his knees. Too much to think about. He didn't want to think. He had nothing else to do but think. No. He could follow Tohru's advice... Or try to. He was terrified of trying to.

After all, how could he follow her advice? All his life, he'd never learned to live.

_  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!   
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Hey! Get, get, get, get, get over it!  
Get over it, get over it! OH!_


End file.
